


Knives Don't Have Your Back

by nemo_r



Category: Revenge - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Manipulation, dub-con, power-play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemo_r/pseuds/nemo_r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Operation: Seduce Amandily</i> has one major flaw... Amateur, meet pro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knives Don't Have Your Back

**Author's Note:**

> Set some time in early/mid season one, before the Emily/Daniel 'ship really began to take off. Also, bear in mind I haven't seen the final few eps yet, so if this has been irrevocably Jossed by the ending... well, damn.
> 
> Soundtrack: Winning by Emily Haines

It was a good plan. Emily was going to use him sooner or later. Nothing mattered to her more than revenge. He would tie her to him before she could cut him loose. He'd seduced Tyler into his clutches. He knew what he was doing.

He might have overdone the Dutch courage a little. Jack had been depressed over Amanda... The other Amanda. Nolan had wanted to be a good friend. Matching him drink for drink was what good friends did. According to Jack at least, and Nolan didn't exactly have experience in that area.

He wasn't intending to do anything big. He wouldn't stay. Wouldn't even knock. She probably wasn't even awake. He'd begin _Operation: Seduce Amandily_ tomorrow. After he'd slept this off.

He could play the patience game. He just wanted to get her looking. Get her to watch the way he moved. Get her to see the way he came alive when working on a plan. She'd notice, he was sure. So maybe he wasn't built like Jack, so he wasn't puppy-dog honest like Daniel. He was _in this_ with her. He had something they could never give her. He _knew_ her. He knew the way she not-smiled when her pieces were falling into place. He knew the way her mind worked -- all sharp edges and deceptive curves. He knew the edge of command in her voice over the phone, he knew the- wait, no, this wasn't about him seeing her, it was about her seeing him. He swallowed thickly, his tongue running over the edge of his teeth.

He drifted along the beach, footsteps dragging a little in the sand, leaving a meandering trail behind him. The sand was gritty in his shoes. He'd just check on her. A glance through the windows. A silent, benevolent stalker stumbling quietly past her porch. 

His intention of passing through like blown sand fell apart within seconds. He approached the house from the beach, reached for the railing and had climbed a step before he noticed her sitting on the porch. She looked pale and regal, her body half cloaked by the shadows. The sea air ruffled through the pale locks of her hair as she leant back against the swing, rocking gently in the wind.

He gave her a slow smile and realised part of him had expected her to be there after all; waiting as if she'd sensed his approach. Perhaps she had. The moonlight lent an eldritch glow to her white dress.

He climbed the steps, then leant back against the railing. He traced the double infinity carved into the post, fingertips moving carefully along the ridges. Her eyes were unfocused as she looked out over the waves. Nolan let his gaze drift past her. He couldn't make out the shape of Grayson Manor in the darkness. Lit windows seemed to float in the dark curve of the land. The house and grounds had melted into one dark mass of shadow punctuated by unseeing rectangles of light.

She finally turned to him and inclined her head slightly to indicate the space next to her. Nolan unfolded from his slouch to slope over to her and take the indicated space. His breathing quickened despite himself at her proximity. She half glanced at him, moonlight catching the curve of her cheek, the shine of her eyes. He smirked, sharp and angled in the corner of his mouth and stretched his arm out along the back of the chair, his muscles tense.

He didn't expect her to lean back against him, didn't expect the slight hitch in her breath, the sigh as she let her eyes fall shut. Hadn't expected the answering hitch in his heartbeat as he looked down at her, suddenly looking small and fragile in the curve of his arm

He blamed the alcohol for what happened next, the almost involuntary movement of his hand, fingers skating just barely over her brow as he swept a lock of hair from her face. Her eyes flicked open. They looked strangely dark. A flash of her usual sharpness that he must have imagined, because it was gone a blink later. The edges of her lips smoothed into a smile. She shifted more fully into him and breathed out against his chest, warming his skin through his shirt.

He relaxed back into the chair, setting it gently rocking. The movement a slow lull to sleep. He only blinked, only took a breath, but the chair had stilled and her fingers were tracing small circles on his sleeve. He didn't remember when he'd started running his fingers through her hair. She shifted, pressing her breasts against his chest. Despite the cool night, the air was close. Sweat prickled on his palms. His hair raising on the backs of his arms.

"Emily." His voice was rough. It sounded strange and loud after so much silence. "I should-"

“Don't go."

He looked down, but her head was tucked perfectly into his shoulder, her face angled away. “I don't want to be alone tonight,” she whispered the words into the darkness, her lips moving against his shirt.

"Then Daniel."

“No.” Now she looked up, her eyes wide again and full of shadows. “I don't want to lie tonight.”

His chest constricted painfully and he moved his hand up again to skate the curve of her cheek.

“Okay.”

He could give her that. He was the only one who could give her that.

She let a tentative smile slip past her lips and raised her head a little, turning in towards him at the same moment he did to her, their noses brushed, and he was very aware of how so much of their bodies were pressed together. A thick coil of heat stretched languorously down his spine and gathered between his legs. He hadn't intended any of this.

"I should-” he began to move this time, sliding away from her, but she reached out. Her hand landed on his bare forearm. The chair rocked him back into his seat with her movement, and she slid closer on the forward rock. The line of her body pressed even more firmly against his. He exhaled sharply.

“Stay,” she whispered.

He swallowed. Most of her face was in darkness, raised on her knees above him. The cloud covered moon gave the shadows a chance to hem in around them, gathering thick at the corners of his eyes. “This isn't part of the plan,” he said, and maybe there was a waver at the end that made it as much a question as it was statement.

The moon pulled fully out from the clouds and she was haloed in silvery light. The fine stray hairs about her head glowed -- angelic and utterly beautiful.

“Stay,” she repeated, bending down to him.

Her lips hovered less than an inch above his. He wasn't cold any more, her warmth had sunk into every inch of his skin. He shivered right down into his bones and finally brought his hand up around her back. 

The touch of her lips on his was electric.

 

**

_I let my look last a second too long. I let my touch linger on his skin. I let my smile spread a little slow. I lean forward and whisper my secrets like they're just for him._


End file.
